


promise

by danganronpa69



Series: weak au [2]
Category: DanganRonpa 69: There’s MORE goddamn hope!?
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Island Mode (Dangan Ronpa), Mastermind!Conductor, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Suicide Attempt, Trauma, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27106135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danganronpa69/pseuds/danganronpa69
Summary: a broken promise hurts the soul.—sequel toweak.
Series: weak au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978471
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lennardd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lennardd/gifts).



> Sequel to [Weak.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26581900)
> 
> ...guess who’s back. back again. condie’s back. tell a friend.
> 
> indeed, condie has returned for another round of torturing! now with extra brotp cond & luigi ‘cause i can’t get enough of their dynamic.
> 
> prepare to hate ayano.

The Conductor felt lost.

He wasn’t quite sure how many days he’d been out, though he was positive he’d been asleep for at least a few. It sure felt like it; his body was completely racked with dull sleepiness. Everything seemed to blend together. If it hadn’t been for the afternoon light shining through the room’s window, he’d have had no clue what time of day it was. Everything looked exactly the same as it had the few times he’d woken up previously. Stark. Bland. With all the same hospital equipment and the same hospital smell…

He’d always hated hospitals.

The repetition of the same rooms with the same pasty white halls with the same blinding fluorescent lights felt like nails on a chalkboard to his consciousness. And that was not even to mention the scratchy bed sheets and gowns which felt like sandpaper compared to his normal attire, and on top of it all, the overwhelming smell of disinfectant. And the persistent beep of the heart monitor. _God,_ he hated that sound. It reminded him of his own mortality. That, even after all this time, _he was still alive._

It was utterly _miserable._ Everything combined together to create the perfect setting to drive him mad. And yet, even despite this miserable state of exhaustion, he couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep. He wasn’t sure what it was: the gown and sheets, the beeping monitor, or the IVs in his arm. Whatever it was, it wasn’t letting up. Never once when he closed his eyes did he fall into the dark embrace of sleep. Instead, his memories always seemed to bring him back to _that night. That night_ that seemed like mere minutes ago, despite it having been days. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes, he remembered.

_Ugh._

He tried to stare out the window. Nothing caught his attention, but anything was better than the hospital. He couldn’t wait to get out of there.

Even if it was going to be a while.

Earlier that day, a few minutes after he’d woken up, a small, Monokuma-sized rabbit doll had strolled into the room. Naturally, of course, he was terrified of it. Of course he would be, after all that he’d suffered with Monokuma. But the rabbit made a point of assuring him that she was nothing like her bear counterpart, promising that she wouldn't hurt him. He was still skeptical, of course, but the bunny lived up to her promise.

After running a few tests on him, she determined that he was in a _mostly_ stable condition. More specifically, that he was ready for visitors. However, he’d have to wait a few more nights in the hospital for his health to fully balance out, plus a few extra days added for suicide watch (while she was filling out her calendar, he could have sworn he saw her add an extra day after glancing at his arms). All things considered, the rabbit concluded that he’d be in the hospital for about another week.

He scared her away pretty easily.

They’d be insane to think he’d last an extra week in there. Hell, they’d be insane to think he’d last even _a few more days_ in there! So what if his health was “unstable?” That was sort of the point of his overdose in the first place. He just wanted to get _out._ Out and away from those fluorescent lights.

_Y’know, it’d be pretty funny if you killed yourself while on suicide watch._

The Conductor paused, somewhat startled by the sudden thought, thinking for a moment. _…Yeah, it would be._

_Isn’t the whole point of “suicide watch” to make sure you don’t try again? It’d be hilarious if you died on their watch._

He glanced across the room at all the medical equipment. 

_They were really stupid to leave me alone with those, huh?_

He smiled.

⁂

_What is it now, Nagito?_

Luigi could hardly keep up with his own thoughts as he made his way towards the lobby of the hospital. Nagito had slid him a note under the door of his cottage earlier that day (presumably sometime after breakfast), informing him of a meeting he’d scheduled in said place at 6 sharp. He could hardly guess the reason behind the meeting, but judging by the meeting location, it was likely concerning the Conductor’s health.

One thing was for sure: it had to be important.

Luigi turned the note over anxiously in his hand, running his gloved fingers over it and feeling every edge and corner. It was a small action, but it helped calm him. At least, it helped calm him as much as it could. But with the meeting’s expected subject…

His unintentionally fast pace helped him reach the door to the lobby of the hospital much sooner than he expected. He faced it with a frown as his heart raced. Nervously, he extended a hesitant hand, stopping just above the doorknob. 

_Please… be okay._

He turned the doorknob and walked into the room—

“Oh, there you are, Luigi!”

Luigi looked up to see Nagito waving a welcoming hand at him. Next to him stood Ayano, who looked to him with her usual empty expression. Inside the room, they seemed to have set up a folding table, with three chairs seated around it. On the table sat a small, black cloth bag.

“Is this everyone?”

“It is,” Nagito said, flashing the girl his usual calm smile.

“Wait, what about Parappa?” Luigi spoke up. This was every (able) survivor, minus the dog.

Nagito’s smile dropped slightly. “Oh, I made sure he was busy elsewhere. I sent him to help Monomi file some paperwork. He’ll be busy for as long as this meeting takes.”

He felt his anxiety increase. _What could possibly be so serious that Parappa couldn’t hear?_

“Anyways,” Nagito‘s usual smile returned, “have a seat, everyone!”

He beckoned them over to the table, where he sat at the seat with the cloth bag. Ayano and Luigi shortly followed, sitting adjacent to him.

“So,” Nagito started, “I called this meeting because I believe I may have evidence concerning the cause of the Conductor’s sickness.” He paused. “Earlier, I had an idea, and I came here to search the contents of the Conductor’s coat. My findings,” he motioned to the bag, “are in here.”

“So?” Ayano objected. “You could have just asked Monomi why he was sick.”

“I did, actually.” Nagito shifted. “She refused to tell me. Said it was… ah, how did she put it… ‘classified information.’”

Ayano frowned. “Strange.”

_Definitely…_

“As I was saying, my findings are in here.” Now, Nagito raised the bag. The clatter of objects faintly sounded.

“Yes, we got that,” Ayano grumbled. “If there really is conclusive evidence for the cause of the Conductor’s illness, then show us.”

Luigi grabbed and squeezed his hands together, feeling a sudden wave of anxious sickness as Nagito slowly opened the bag. Maybe he _didn’t_ want to know why Conductor got so sick. Especially if the reason was so bad that Parappa couldn’t be there. Nagito reached his hand into the bag, feeling around until he brought out—

A single, smooth button.

Ayano looked up, narrowing her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but Nagito was quicker.

“Like I said, this is _everything_ that was in his pockets.”

“But what does this have to do with—“

“Would you like to see or not?”

For a moment, Ayano looked like she was about to say something back, but instead, she quietly sighed and looked back to the table, where Nagito had set down the button.

_Well, this isn’t so bad. ...So far._

Next, from the bag, he pulled out something(s) that jingled in his fist before he set them down on the table.

A collection of small, green, orb-shaped gems that glittered and jingled like coins. Each one had the shape of a gem engraved in its center.

“...Spare change?” Luigi guessed. He supposed they hadn’t a clue about the forms of currency from each others’ universes.

“Probably,” Nagito agreed.

As Nagito reached into the bag again, Ayano spoke up.

“Got anything else useless to us?”

“Yes, actually,” Nagito said with a small smile.

He pulled out a pocket watch with a gold chain and set it down on the table.

Luigi eyed it with awe. It was awfully… fancy, with an ornate design engraved into the back. He supposed it ought to be so fancy, as Conductor’s occupation _was_ a train conductor, and he’d need to use it often. Still, he smiled as he admired it.

“What else?” Ayano broke the silence. “Surely, you don’t have anything else that’s going to waste our time.”

Nagito smiled again, but this time, his smile was… sad. Anxious? Hesitant. He looked away.

“Actually, you’re right. That’s the last of the… ‘useless’ items.” 

“Finally,” Ayano sighed. “So, what is it?”

Nagito’s smile stayed, but now it faltered. Luigi felt his anxiety suddenly spike. All the calmness he’d accumulated through looking at the mundane items suddenly disappeared as his mind returned to why they were there in the first place. _The cause of Conductor’s sickness…_

“Well, you see…” Nagito began, twirling a strand of his hair.

But Ayano shook her head. “No. You’ve wasted enough time already. We want to know; show us.”

Nagito sighed. He smiled, but it was still hesitant. “Ah, you’re right. I apologize for my incompetence getting in your way—“

“Just show us.”

“Okay…”

Nagito looked to the side for a moment, as though mentally assessing the situation, before reaching into the bag again. The time he spent with his hand in the bag was short, but to Luigi, it felt like an eternity. _Just get it over with already—!_

He took his hand out of the bag, and—

_H…uh?_

Nagito carefully set down on the table a strangely… _empty_ bottle of pills.

Luigi could practically feel himself rapidly growing pale. The chill that was sent down his spine felt like none other. It felt almost as though he was falling. The world seemed to spin. _Wh… what?_ _This… this doesn’t mean he… no, he couldn’t have, right…?_

Almost as soon as Nagito had set them down on the table, Ayano snatched them up. Her eyes barely skimmed the label before she looked up.

“These are the Conductor’s antidepressants.”

“Indeed, they are.”

“I see.” Ayano studied the bottle slightly, turning it over in her hands. “If the Conductor had really been taking his antidepressants as prescribed, he would have barely even scratched the surface of this bottle’s contents. Yet it’s nearly empty.”

_But… it would make sense… especially with why he acted so aggressive… he wouldn’t want— but he would never, right? He wouldn’t have! He… he couldn’t have! He… I thought he… well, maybe not, but… he could never have… have tried to..._

She set it down, looking up at Nagito for affirmation. The latter’s smile had since completely dropped.

_“I’m sorry.” That’s what he had said when— on that night…. is this what he meant? Is this why he—_

“So you understand.” Nagito paused. “...Luigi?”

Startled out of his thoughts, Luigi’s gaze snapped up. “H-huh?”

Nagito opened his mouth to try and say something, but Ayano interrupted him. “Is there anything else?”

Nagito didn’t say anything. Instead, he just looked down at the bag, which appeared to be completely empty.

“Well?”

Nagito looked to Luigi, then to Ayano. Then he looked at the bag. After a single moment of hesitance, he flipped the bag upside down.

Out fell a small, folded slip of paper, landing directly in the middle of the table.

Luigi felt his world skid to a stop.

Everything stopped. His thoughts, his breathing, his heart… even the world around him seemed to stop.

He could only stare.

Even when Ayano swiped up the paper almost immediately, he still simply stared at the spot where it once was on the table.

He felt his head begin to spin.

_This is impossible. This isn’t real. This is a dream. There’s no way this is happening._

“I never read it,” Nagito said, looking up at Ayano, who was unfolding the paper.

_This is obviously not… there’s no way…._

When it was completely unfolded, Ayano seemed to skim the first sentence before folding it back up.

“Well?”

_It’s not—!_

“It’s a suicide note.”

Luigi felt his world collapse in on him once again. He was shaking now, and he gripped his arms around himself in a desperate attempt to keep himself steady. The voices of the people around him were muffled. He heard nothing they said. His thoughts sped too fast for him to even keep up with. He wanted to cry. In fact, he nearly did.

He could barely hear someone saying his name.

A hand that felt like Komaeda’s was placed on his shoulder.

He felt numb.

⁂

“I figured. So can we assume this is the cause?”

“Yes, it’s a safe assumption. It would also explain why Monomi refused to give you the information.”

“It’s a lucky thing that you were there just in time, Luigi.”

“Luigi?”

“Luigi, can you hear me?”

“...Ayano? Where are you going?”

“I have other business to attend to.”

“...Okay.”

“Luigi, please tell me you can hear me…!”

⁂

…

Nighttime.

Moonlight shone through every window in the hospital, illuminating the place with an eerie blue glow. Combined with the quiet, it felt almost ethereal.

Yet, it wasn’t completely silent nor undisturbed. Quietly, Luigi made his way down the main hall, carrying a couple books he’d grabbed from the library with him. His footsteps echoed quietly throughout the building, and the shadows he cast were long.

He couldn’t sleep. It had only been a night since the Conductor had fallen ill, but with every moment that had since passed, his thoughts were plagued with worries. The Conductor was suffering with this mysterious illness all alone, and at any moment, it could get worse. And so, naturally, Luigi was terrified. He wanted to visit the Conductor just to _see_ him again, but Monomi wouldn’t let him. She said he was in too fragile of a condition for visitors. His anxieties wouldn’t let up.

Eventually, he reached the door to the room where the Conductor stayed. Carefully, he reached out towards the door handle, when—

“Hey! You can’t go in there!”

He turned around to see the pink and white bunny waving her arms at him. She looked more scared than angry.

“You can’t disturb him! He’s still recovering, and he can’t take visitors yet!”

Luigi frowned. “I-I wasn’t planning to wake him up! I only wanted to see him. To just… be there?”

Monomi frowned, looking up at him with her paws on her hips. She glanced at the books he was holding. “Hmmmm…”

“I swear! You won’t hear a thing from me! I-I won’t touch him, I won’t do anything!”

“Well… I guess as long as you don’t wake him up or mess with any of the medical equipment, it wouldn’t be bad for you to _see_ him…”

Luigi sighed with relief. “Thank you!”

“Just…! Don’t tell anyone I let you! Or else they might want to too! And then he might wake up!” Monomi warned.

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Okay, good!” Monomi passed in front of Luigi, stood on the very tips of her paws, reached up, and unlocked the door. She looked back up at Luigi one last time. “And make extra sure you’re really quiet, okay? He needs as much sleep as he can get.”

Luigi smiled. “Okay, I got it.”

Monomi nodded shortly before hopping away.

Turning back to the door to the Conductor’s room, Luigi hesitated for a moment. _Do I really want to see him in this state?_

_I suppose it’s better than constantly assuming he’s dead, right?_

He turned the doorknob and walked in, shutting the door as gently as possible behind him. Luigi turned to look at the Conductor, and—

_Oh._

Naturally, it came as a surprise to Luigi to see the Conductor in such a… _vulnerable_ state. But even when the Conductor was in a coma after the killing game, he didn’t look as weak as he did now. He had all kinds of needles and wires connected to him, with them all twisting their way under his hospital robe. The heart monitor connected to him gently beeped at a slow but steady pace. It felt comforting. A reminder that _he was alive._

Yet even still, in the moonlight, the Conductor looked… tiny. Smaller than he ever had looked. Maybe it was because Luigi had never seen the latter without his typical getup on, and the hospital robes were really loose on him, or maybe it was because of the illness. Or was it both?

Luigi silently sighed, walking over to a seat adjacent to his bed and sitting down. He set down the books he was carrying in his lap before picking one up and flipping to the first page.

...

⁂

_Ready for visitors._

Was that what he was waiting for now? For someone to come by and visit him? Yeah, right. Like anyone would want to visit the guy who just tried to off himself. By now they had to know, too, right? They absolutely saw the note. And probably the bottle, too. 

Oh, god, he was so pecked.

So yeah. No one wanted to visit him, and he wanted no one to visit him. It was an absolute win. He didn’t need anyone to try and give him some cheap words about how “precious” his life is, or about how he’d be “throwing everything away” even though he never had anything in the first place. He especially didn't need anyone to tell him about how much they “needed him,” because that was such an obvious lie, it hurt. Yeah, right. Like they needed the mass murderer in their lives.

He’d already heard everything. Every last excuse. It was all empty.

The Conductor stared out the window bitterly.

Faintly, the Conductor could have sworn he heard footsteps from the hall. This wasn’t anything new to his ears, though. He did hear, on occasion, footsteps passing his room. People going to and from the offices. Monomi transporting equipment.

But then they stopped just outside his room.

The Conductor angled his ears towards his door—

Almost as suddenly as the footsteps stopped, the door opened. More footsteps, and it closed.

The Conductor refused to look at his visitor, whoever they were. He figured that so long as they saw that he found whatever was outside the window more interesting than them, they’d go away soon enough.

_Should I acknowledge them?_

_Eh, might as well._

“Yer couldn’t even bother to _knock?”_ he hissed.

Silence.

Where the Conductor expected some kind of response, there was nothing but dead silence.

Except the footsteps picked up again, sounding as though they were approaching his bed.

They stopped just at the edge.

The Conductor couldn’t look away anymore. Curiosity overtook him, and his beak upturned into a snarl as he turned to face—

_Oh._

_Oh_ **_no._ **

Almost immediately as he did, he felt his ears pin to the back of his head in fear.

There, looming right over his bed, was Ayano Aishi.

And she looked _pissed._

For a moment, the two simply stared at one another. Ayano’s gaze pierced into him as he cowered slightly, watching her to see what she would do to him. But she simply stared. So he did, too. That was, until the silence became suffocating and he could take no more.

Letting his beak upturn into a snarl once again, he began, “W—“

As sudden as lightning, Ayano’s open hand hit him across the face.

The Conductor recoiled almost immediately, hissing in pain and cursing under his breath. He felt tears prick at the edges of his vision as he put a hand to his left cheek. It burned.

“We promised no more deaths.”

The Conductor looked up at her.

“We promised no more deaths. You remember that, don’t you?” There wasn’t a question in her voice, though.

“We promised that between us, when the killing game ended, _when_ _you woke up,_ that there would be no. More. Deaths. And yet, what did you just try to do?”

The Conductor stared in awe and fear. Mostly fear. His cheek still burned like fire. “I—“

But the fire in Ayano’s eyes was even more scorching. “You tried to kill yourself. Did you think we wouldn’t find out? Or did you think you would succeed? You’re stupid for thinking either.”

He was speechless. He couldn’t—

“You would really do that to all of us? After everything you already put us through, you’d continue? After all the trauma you already gave everyone here, you’d give them more?

“Did you even once think about them? About the people who were watching over you, waiting for you to fulfil that empty promise that you’d try and better yourself? Komaeda? Luigi? Parappa?”

“I— they—“

“What, they’d be ‘better off without you?’ Whether they would be in actuality or not, your death would have _hurt them._ You think that’s ‘better off?’ You think that traumatizing them more than they already are is being ‘better off?’ They consider you to be their friend. Regardless of whether or not you deserve it, they want to see you thrive. And you honestly believe they’d be ‘better off’ if you died?”

He couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“Believe me, I agree. Your actions are irredeemable, and you’re an awful person. But that doesn’t mean you should _die._ In fact, the best punishment you could possibly give yourself is staying alive.

“But no. You tried to kill yourself. You tried to be selfish and take the easy way out and leave everyone broken. And I thought you were being selfish when you started a killing game for your own gain.”

He looked away. He felt empty.

“But somehow I was proven wrong. Somehow, it was possible that you could be even more selfish than that. You _disgust me._ You’re not pitiful, you’re not misunderstood, you’re _selfish and disgusting._ If you _really_ want to do something good, stay alive and repent for your actions. If you _really_ want to do something good, stay alive and keep everyone who wants to see you ‘redeemed’ happy. Trust me, their happiness is worth much more than yours.”

He felt so, so empty.

“So stay alive, you selfish, disgusting bastard.”

Ayano turned to leave. Before she reached the door, she paused.

“Trust me, I also wish we had never brought you back.”

The door opened, and she left.

When the door shut, everything fell silent.

Even the Conductor’s sobs were silent.

⁂

When the Conductor’s sobs subsided, there was nothing left within him. He felt empty. Drained. Hollow. Whatever emotions he’d previously kept had completely abandoned him.

The tears that ran down his face stung when they hit his swollen cheek. But he didn’t care. He wanted the pain. He deserved it.

He deserved nothing but to be in pain.

Maybe if not the sweet release of death, this was what he needed. If his punishment was to stay alive, then he’d live his life as painfully as possible. Maybe this was what the universe was trying to tell him all along. That there was no other suitable punishment for his wrongdoings than this.

He listened to the beep of the monitor slowing down from the spike it had taken.

He looked down to his IVs. A part of him told him to rip them out. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he couldn’t bring himself to.

_Stay alive. But live in pain._

Yes, if the IVs were what was keeping him alive, he couldn’t take them out.

_But live in pain…_

The Conductor glanced around the room, looking for the medical tray. He spotted it at the far edge of the room, situated in front of some countertops and a sink. The metal tools in it glistened in the evening light. _Maybe there’s something sharp in there._

Carefully, the Conductor lifted himself from where he sat on the bed. Almost immediately, his muscles cried out in pain and his head began to ache. He almost smiled. When his feet hit the floor, the cold stung him. The monitor’s beeping picked up its pace again.

Rolling the machine connected to his IVs alongside him, he walked over to the medical tray, silently hoping there weren’t any other wires that he hadn’t seen which he’d have to take care of. Even the cold autumn air seemed to sting. But hey, at least he deserved it.

Thankfully, he hadn’t missed any other wires, and he reached the medical tray without too much effort. His body still aching, he reached into the tray and sifted through the tools until he reached the scalpel. Picking it up, he examined it in the light. Every sharp edge, every little point…

_Perfect._

The Conductor angled his body to move back to his bed, when—

_Knock knock._

Suddenly, he felt a bit of deja vu.

And the doorknob turned.

⁂

The Conductor pointed a scalpel at him.

There were multiple things wrong with this scenario, of course. First of all, the Conductor was up and out of his bed, when he was supposed to be resting. Second of all, he had picked up a scalpel with his shaky hands. And, of course, third of all, he was pointing it directly at Luigi, who had only just walked in.

Luigi was, quite frankly, taken aback. Being met with a scalpel pointed at his chest was not exactly how he had expected to be greeted. Sure, he had expected to not be very… _welcome,_ but to take it this far?

...Wait, why was Conductor even carrying a scalpel in the first place?

Luigi studied the man, whose hold on the scalpel was all but steady. The first thing he noticed was just how _tiny_ the Conductor looked. Somehow, he looked even smaller than that first night Luigi visited him, with his robes not even barely fitting him and the sleeves stretching far past his wrists. He also had less wires connected to him than he did that first night which was… a plus, he supposed. His figure appeared frail, as though he could stumble and fall over himself at any moment. If he squinted, Luigi might have been able to tell that some of his feathers had fallen out. Most of all, though, he looked empty. There were no emotions on his face other than a small bit of fear as he eyed Luigi standing before him.

He wasn’t quite sure what to say.

Would mere words say anything he wanted them to?

Hesitating for a moment, Luigi gently reached out and lowered the scalpel, feeling the Conductor’s shaky hand under his. Without much effort, he was able to pry the weapon from the other’s hand, setting it back on the tray where it belonged.

Looking back at the Conductor, Luigi noticed that he was now staring at the scalpel in the tray almost longingly. He took a deep breath.

“You should be resting.”

The Conductor scoffed. 

“Seriously, please go lay down.”

Where Luigi had expected to find the expression of someone ready to argue, he instead found a face of silent resignation. One of the Conductor’s ears twitched — the feathers of which almost looked red in the light of the evening sun — before he turned his back to Luigi, rolling the machine which carried his IVs back to the side of his hospital bed.

Luigi flashed him a concerned look. “Try not to tug on your IVs.”

The Conductor simply scoffed again.

Luigi, too, made his way to the side of the Conductor’s bed, gently pulling over the chair he’d sat in on that night before so that he’d be directly at the side of the bed. The Conductor, who had just crawled back under the sheets of said bed, almost immediately took to staring out the window.

Luigi looked down at his hands, which he wringed together in his lap. “So… how are you doing?” It wasn’t the best first question, but it was better than nothing.

The Conductor… chuckled.

He didn’t quite know what he expected, but he felt a slight sickness emerge in him anyway. And that was not even to take into account the sickness that was already remaining in his heart after he’d found out that the Conductor had attempted to kill himself. And that if it weren’t for him, Conductor would be _dead_ right now. He knew he should have felt glad, but he still felt awful that it had even happened in the first place.

Luigi looked up at the Conductor, studying his expression.

His face was slightly smiling, but something told Luigi that it wasn’t quite a happy smile. The feathers on his face were dull, but the evening light reflected off of them was bright. His face—

_Hang on._

“Why is your face swollen?” Luigi asked.

The Conductor turned to look at him, appearing confused, before he pointed to the red spot on his face. “Oh, this?”

“Y-yes…?”

The Conductor paused for a moment before laughing. His expression beamed with mischief. “I did this to myself! Do you like it? Is it fitting?”

Luigi felt his heart sink before confusion washed over him. He frowned. “But… I passed Ayano in the hall, and she said you were okay!” 

The other’s mischievous expression quickly faltered, and in that moment, a horrible thought overcame Luigi. His eyes widened in shock and fear at the mere idea.

“She… she didn’t… did she?”

The Conductor looked to the side, hesitating just a second before giving in. “Clever as always, eh?” He put his hand to his cheek for a moment. “…You’re right. She did give me a… uhh… bit of a beating.” He beamed again. “I'm grateful, though! I deserved it! Plus, we found something we can both agree on!”

Luigi was already rising from his seat, ready to go hit Ayano in the same way, when his last few words caught him. “You… found something you can agree on?”

The Conductor grinned. “Yeah! We both hate me!”

And his heart dropped again. It dropped even more when he noticed how the Conductor had begun to shake again. Luigi sat back down.

“Try to calm down a bit, please.”

“Calm down? _Calm down?”_ The Conductor put one hand to his head incredulously. “Are you kidding me? I’m the calmest person here! I’ve never been better!” He was still shaking. “Never been better! Not since the last suicide attempt! Or the one before that! …Or the ones before that!”

Luigi now felt himself start to shake. _There were others?!_

“Would you like to hear about them? They’ve each got quite the story, you know! Would you like to know what my execution in the killing game was based on? Here’s a hint: it was a previous suicide attempt! I planted a bomb on my train and set up all kinds of traps that made it near to impossible to reach the defuser! And, get this, I left the job up to a kid! A _kid!_ Younger than Parappa, even! And the entire thing was staged as a movie. I endangered the lives of everyone on my train during that attempt, ‘cause I wanted to make sure, when I was dead, everyone would hate me! I really didn’t think my kid would defuse the bomb, but she did. I wish she hadn’t, you know? I wish she’d abandoned my train. Teleported back to her home. I wish she’d left me to do what needed to be done. But she wouldn’t let me! How tragic is that? She wouldn’t let me die, even though I deserve to be dead—!”

_“Stop!”_

The entire room fell silent, save for the very quick beeping of the heart monitor.

Luigi was completely distraught. He tried to hold himself to help stop his shaking, but it didn’t help. Tears crowding his vision threatened to spill onto his face. He didn’t notice how Conductor was shaking even worse.

“I… I just want to see you okay.”

The Conductor looked on in surprise.

“I just… I want to see you okay. I want to see you _happy. Genuinely_ happy. I want to hear you laughing along with everyone, I want to see you smiling with everyone, I just… want to see you _happy._ It hurts me so much to hear that you feel like this, and… and I want to help in any way I can… if possible.”

The Conductor looked away. He appeared… conflicted. “Why?”

Luigi blinked in surprise. Or, maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised, with how much self-hate Conductor had just been talking. “Why? Because I care about you, of course.”

“But why?” The Conductor turned to face him now, appearing upset. Like Luigi’s words had somehow betrayed him.

“Well,” Luigi started, “I just… like being around you. Being with you makes me happy. I love hearing you ramble about movie production, and your ideas are always super creative and interesting…”

“But _why?!”_ Conductor hissed, putting his hands to his face. Suddenly, realization dawned upon Luigi.

“…You’re just looking for ways to put yourself down.”

For a long few seconds, the Conductor went completely silent. His face remained buried in his hands, and he still looked mildly upset. Had he really thought he was _that low_ in his eyes?

“…I don’t deserve any of this,” the Conductor muttered.

“Whether you think you deserve it or not, we all care about you and want to see you improve. We all want to see you happy.”

“But Ayano—“

“It doesn’t matter what Ayano thinks.”

Luigi rose from his seat. “Actually, I think I’m going to go talk to her now.” He smiled at the Conductor. “I’m glad to see your health is improving.”

The latter simply scoffed, and he turned to leave the room. However, just as he had placed a hand on the doorknob—

“Wait.”

Luigi turned back around to look at the Conductor, who had his hands gripping the feathers on the back of his head like he was about to tear them out. Somehow, he looked even more upset than he did earlier.

“…Yes?”

“Can… you stay a little longer?”

Stunned, Luigi watched as the Conductor’s grip on his feathers slackened and he glanced up at him. Almost immediately after, he looked away, as though mentally cursing himself for asking him. Luigi’s shock quickly turned to happiness, which manifested itself in a warm smile on his face.

“Of course.”


End file.
